The Real Me
by JaydenMatthews
Summary: Confessions of a once lost now found individual


I have never been your typical girl. I never played with Barbie dolls unless pulling off their legs and blowing them up with firecrackers counts. I never wanted to wear dresses or pretty clothes. I have always hated the color pink. I wanted to play softball and to throw a football around. I wanted to wear baggy blue jeans and button-down shirts and a LA Dodgers hat. My favorite color was blue. Then I got a little older.

I still did not like the same things that the other girls liked. I did not want to wear make-up all over my face. I did not want to wear those clothes that looked like they had been painted onto my skin. I started to notice things about myself that I did not tell anybody such as my attraction to the fairer sex...I found myself looking at girls a lot. Not in the "oh, she's pretty and I love those shoes" kind of way. I looked at girls and thought to myself "she is beautiful. I bet her lips and skin are really soft. I want to hold her hand." And then I started high school.

It was hell. There were all of these female bodies that I dreamed about having pressed against my own. There were lips that I wanted to kiss and hands I wanted to hold. Tight blue jeans and revealing shirts...my hormones were going INSANE. I got my first taste of a girl when I was sixteen years old. I had kissed boys before. Hell, I had even had sex with a guy. But that kiss...that first kiss opened up a whole new world for me. I knew that I never wanted to kiss another boy ever again. I knew that I would not ever be happy with a man. I tried to be with several different guys. I even continued to try to enjoy sex with them, but I just didn't. It felt wrong and uncomfortable and painful. Not that they were hurting me on purpose or forcing me to do anything that I was not willing to do. I was willing. To be honest I was trying to be straight. It was easier. It made everybody happier...everybody but myself.  
In 2011 I moved 198 miles away from my hometown and started my new life. I found that being away from all the people that I had known my entire life was invigorating. I was able to be myself for the first time ever. I was able to wear baggy jeans and a button-down shirt and Georgia boots and a backwards hat without the fear of being looked down on or judged. When you come from a town that has only 300 people living in it, you know most everybody and most everybody has something to say to you or about you. There was a lot of talk when I lived in my hometown but then I moved, and it was one of the best things I ever did. I could finally be me. I could finally stop hiding the way I preferred to dress. I no longer had to sneak around to be with women.  
I felt a sense of freedom. While in the state away from home...I kind of got around a lot. I was not really sleeping around but I did sleep with a lot of people.  
Still, though, I felt this need to be the type of person that everyone else wanted me to be. I got really depressed. I got into a relationship with a girl who was not mentally healthy. She got off of her medicine and she literally tried to kill me. After that, I started sleeping with my married best friend and that was a bigger mess than the crazy lady. Nothing seemed to make sense to me when I stopped seeing my best friend. I felt lost. I felt alone. I felt like I just was not meant to be in love; a happily ever after was just not in my cards.  
I moved back to my home state, but I refused to go back to hiding myself. I still wore the clothes that I felt comfortable in. I still wore cologne instead of perfume. My smell kind of became my trademark and still is to this day. I smell sexy as fuck. It's just the truth. Deal with it. I smell sexy and most of the time, I look sexy. If I were a boy, I would be very very sexy. Everybody would want a little bit of this. I feel sexy when I wear my boy clothes. I feel desired and wanted and admired.  
Okay, so, truth time. Most people that see me but have never met me before think I am a boy. That used to bother me a lot. I was not a boy. I did not have a penis. I was a girl. It would get under my skin so horribly. I remember one time; I went to Subway to eat with my mom. We ate and talked and then as we were leaving, I held the door open for this silver haired older woman. It is the respectful thing to do. I have done it for years. But this older woman looked at me and smiled a genuine smile. She looked at mom and then looked back at me. She put her hand on my shoulder and said, "It's so nice to see that there are some young gentlemen in the world still." This woman just called me a gentleman. She just called me a boy. She was complimenting me, but she still called me a boy. It bothered me that she called me a boy. I think that it made my mom proud though. It was odd and weird.  
What nobody has ever really known about me and what I have even tried to keep hidden from myself is that being a boy instead of a girl would be something that I actually want. I have always felt more like a boy than a girl. I have always enjoyed boy things more than girl things. I have always been attracted to dirt and sports and girls. I got along better with boys; hell, I was always seen as one of the boys. My brother and I used to go out in the woods with fake guns to hunt monsters in the trees and then ended up waist deep in the mud pit. That has always just been who I am and how I am. I reflect on myself and I realize that I have always felt like there has been something missing. I have breasts and I hate them. I would rather be shirtless and bare chested and without the lady lumps. I want them to be gone. I have a vagina and though I do enjoy the sensation that comes with the sexual pleasure of a vagina, I have learned a few things over the years. I am incredibly good with my hips. Grinding into the core of a woman (my wife for the past 3 years) and knowing that moving just the right way could push her right over the edge. I experimented with a strap on for the first time about two years ago, with my wife, and the noises and the expressions of pleasure tell me just how good I am with that extra appendage. The only thing lacking is the sensation that goes along with it. I wish that I could feel myself sliding in and out of her. I wish that I could feel her walls tightening around me when she gets close. I wish I could feel her heat when I enter her. I wish I could feel her juices as she explodes around me. I have spoken to my wife, Regina, about this a few times even though it terrified me to my very soul. She surprised me. She told me that she would love me no matter what I was. It did not matter to her whether I have a penis or not. She said that she loves me for me and not for the body parts that I have.  
I guess you could count this as my confession. This is the real me. From this moment on, I am no longer Emma Swan...you can call me Colin James Swan.


End file.
